B.Q. Book One: Princess of the Blacks

Chapter 34: The Dark Lord Returns

Disclaimer: Did Cedric seriously ask whether he and Harry should have their wands out after being Portkeyed from a deadly maze to a creepy graveyard? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.
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Quid pro quo. Tit for tat. Equivalent exchange. No free lunch. All of these phrases meant the same thing: everything had a price. Jen's direct connection to the planet's supply of magic was no exception; while it came with a host of benefits, there were downsides. Her inability to metabolize ingested potions was what she encountered most frequently, but it was by no means the only one, nor the most important. She could burn out wands with a touch, and delicate secondary foci potentially faced the same fate, but with adequate preparation so as to avoid overloading the runes necessary for their enchantment, it was not impossible to handle them for brief periods.

No, what caused her the most grief was her pitiful innate resistance to outside magic. Spells cast upon her would last far longer than normal before fading, and it was not unusual for the effects to be more severe, as well. Such circumstances were rarely an issue as she avoided being hit whenever possible, but riding the Portkey on the Triwizard Trophy, she was beginning to experience some difficulties.

Portkeys were a rather odd application of magic, for they shared characteristics with both charmed objects and active spells. Like artifacts, they could remain inactive for long periods of time, producing their effect only when specific conditions were met. In this instance, the condition had been a junior and senior champion touching the Cup at the same time. When normal enchanted items activated, however, the stored spell only affected the object itself. Portkeys acted instead as relays of sorts, the magic engulfing the passengers and whisking them elsewhere in a miniature cyclone.

This was where the problem developed. Her previous experience with Portkeys was limited to just this past year, and the two times she had used them, she had found herself being introduced rather rudely to the floor due to her inability to determine up from down while spinning like a top, but nothing more inconvenient. Those had been quick hops, though, and the spell had been cast by a master wizard.

This Portkey was too rough to be Dumbledore's work, and the trip was significantly longer.

The crystal Cup finally reached its destination, and Jen felt her it slip out of her hand. Twisting madly and trying desperately to keep her stomach contents where they belonged, she could not brace for impact. Her right shoulder broke with a loud crack as she landed on it, and she tumbled uncontrollably along the ground until a flat object slammed into her back. She opened her mouth to scream when she vomited violently from the vertigo and pain.

"Jen! Jen!"

The world evidently decided it had had enough fun at her expense for the moment and righted itself, her sonar stretching sluggishly and stopping only three meters from her position. It was just enough space for her to feel two things. The first was Cedric sliding through her puddle of puke to her side. The second was the headstone she had impacted, as well as its nearby neighbors.

They had been dragged to a cemetery.

A numbing charm silenced the agony radiating from her fracture, and she pushed herself to a sitting position before cradling her spinning head. A graveyard at night; why do I not like the sound of this? "What did you say?"

"Are you okay?" the Hufflepuff asked. Though his concern was clear in his voice, she could feel his head swiveling around and his hand gripping his wand tightly. "I heard something snap when you hit the ground, and your arm doesn't look right."